


Taking All Bets

by trash4ficsaboutlurv



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash4ficsaboutlurv/pseuds/trash4ficsaboutlurv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve would say he's a betting man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking All Bets

_Natasha. 50 bucks._

 “Favorite writer?”

“James Baldwin.”

“Favorite singer?”

“Would it be cheesy if I said Marvin?”

“No. He’s my favorite, too. Um, favorite animal?”

“Falcon.”

“Favorite plant?”

“Plant?”

“Yeah, like a flower or a tree or—”

“I know what a plant is, Steve. I don’t know, oak trees.”

“Favorite sport?”

“Football.”

“Favorite football team?”

“Oh no,” Sam says, placing his pen on the crossword puzzle in front of him. “I won’t have Tony saying I poisoned your mind.”

“Are your teams rivals or something?”

Sam grins. “If my team beating his team two times a year every year is a rivalry, sure, our teams are rivals.”

“Okay, favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Favorite school subject?”

“History.”

“Favorite Avenger?”

“Steve—”

“I knew it!”

“That’s not fair. I wasn’t answering the question.”

“So I’m not your favorite Avenger?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Here I was thinking you were trying to get to know me when this was all just some elaborate con job. For shame, Steve Rogers. For shame.”

Steve laughs. “Well, I’m about to win a bet with Natasha. She thinks she’s your favorite. I can’t wait to see the look on her face. Has Nat ever been wrong in the history of ever? Ah, this is going to be good. Thanks, Sam.” Steve pops out of his chair and drops a kiss on Sam’s forehead (which first surprises, and then very much delights Sam.)

Sam looks at Steve’s retreating back and shakes his head. “I can’t _believe_ he’s my favorite Avenger.”

 

 _Thor._ _Bragging Rights._

“You’re drunk?” Sam asks, baffled as Steve wobbles into the apartment and collapses on the couch. 

Steve nods, the color high on his cheeks. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes.

“I thought you couldn’t get drunk.”

“Thor brought Asgardian ale.”

“And you drank a barrel?” Sam asks, torn between being amused or concerned.

Steve grins, then winces. “A single cup.”

“Damn. Must be potent.”

“A fact Thor didn’t think to tell me when he offered it.”

“I’m sorry, man. Need me to get you some water?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just sit with me?”

Sam takes the easy chair across from Steve. Steve looks like Sam after ten shots of Everclear, that one billion proof alcohol that every freshman has to try at least once before they can move on to classier drinks like tequila and moonshine.

“You look horrible,” he says when it appears Steve isn’t going to do anything but sigh dramatically.

“Why are you so far away?”

Sam frowns. “Dude, I’m right here.”

Steve shakes his head, winces, stops shaking his head. “No, you’re over there.” He chuckles like he’s made a clever joke. “You should sit with me. Here.” He pats the sofa cushion, then pats his knee and laughs some more. “Or here.”

Sam bites his lip. “So drunk Steve is an even bigger flirt than sober Steve? Good to know.”

“Isn’t good to know,” Steve says. “I’m never getting drunk again.”

“That’s what they all say. And then it’s someone’s bachelorette party and you’re in the bar bathroom heaving up your insides while someone holds your expensive clutch bag and the broken heel of your favorite pair of fuck-me stilettos.”

“That’s—that’s oddly specific, Sam.”

“Why’d Thor bring Asgardian ale?”

“Last time he was on Earth, he bet I couldn’t drink a cup without passing out.”

“So, I take it you won the bet.”

Steve nods. “You’re still over there,” he points out.

Sam rolls his eyes before pushing out of the easy chair and plopping down beside Steve. Steve immediately slings an arm around his shoulder. “Thanks, Sam. I like it when you’re _here_ here, not over there-here.”

Sam smiles. “Okay, Steve. I’m right here.”

 

_Tony. $1000._

Sam sniffs the air when he comes home from work. “Something smells good,” he says, confused and very slightly concerned. Has someone broken into his home to cook what smells like – _sniff, sniff_ – steak and something garlicky.

He drops his briefcase by the door and goes into the kitchen to find Steve half in the stove, apparently checking on the progress of whatever he’s cooking.

“Steve?”

Steve pops up. “Sam! I made you dinner!”

Sam frowns. He and Steve have a firm take-out policy when it comes to Steve’s weeks to handle food. The first time he ever tried to make Sam something, Sam had thought Steve was pulling a prank on him. But the smells in here are actually very promising. “When’d you learn to cook?” he asks.

“When Tony bet me I couldn’t. It’s pretty easy, actually. Just, you know, follow the instructions.”

Sam nods. “Steak?”

“With onions and mushrooms and then garlic potatoes. They were a little dry, so I added some milk and now their garlic mashed potatoes, but that doesn’t count as a failure. Cooking is all about impromptu invention.”

Sam shrugs. “I’m not complaining. Lemme just change into something comfortable and I’ll be back.”

“Okay, and you gotta tell Tony how delicious everything is, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Give me a sec.”

When Sam comes back downstairs, Tony’s face is on the big screen and Steve is saying, “Pay up, Tin Man. I’m a chef, now. Oh, Sam, come here.”

Sam takes a brief moment to reflect fondly on his boring ass life before Steve, then crosses the living room and says hi to Tony Stark.

“Now, remember,” Tony says, “you don’t have to lie just because he’s stronger than you. Honest opinions, only. This is for science and ego, my two true passions.”

Sam nods, pleasantly bemused.

“Here,” Steve says and without any preamble, spoons a giant blob of mashed potato into Sam’s mouth.

Sam makes a noise of surprise and half the potatoes spill onto his chin.

“See, he hates it,” Tony says. “He’s throwing it up.”

“Is not!” Steve says indignantly and then more softly and concerned, “Is it, Sam? Is it bad?”

Sam concentrates on the flavors and textures in his mouth – buttery, smooth yet fluffy, garlic, a faint hint of salt. He swallows. “No, it’s perfect. Really, really good.”

Tony shakes his head. “Unbelievable. There’s no way Rhodey or Pepper would lie for me like that. Where’d you meet him, Cap? I need to pick up some better friends.”

“I’m not lying,” Sam says, but this gets drowned out by Steve, who’s laughing and saying, “Good luck with that. There’s only one Sam and he’s mine.”

Sam glances at Steve and Steve looks down at him with such unbridled, unrestrained affection, Sam’s cheeks start to burn.

“God, get a room,” Tony says in disgust. “I’ll have someone wire you your money.” And then the screen goes black.

Steve smiles. “So, I set everything up in the dining room. And I used these really nice candles. They smell like roses. Isn’t that sweet? God, the future’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “It is.”

 

_Fury. $100_

“What’s in the box?” Sam asks, looking up from his book as Steve tries to sneak past, holding a large, wrapped box.

“Nothing,” he says, so obviously lying it’s kind of funny.

“Okay,” Sam says.

“Okay, I got you something, but you can’t look.”

Sam smiles. “What for?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Well, thanks in advance, I guess.”

“You’re not even a little curious?” Steve asks.

“I’m very, very curious. But you’re so bad at lying I don’t want to force you to do it and I don’t want to have to pretend to believe you, either. So I’m asking no questions.”

“And don’t peek when I’m not around either.”

“Okay, Steve.”

“I mean it. No peeking.”

Sam laughs. “I promise, Steve. I will not peek in the mystery box or shake the mystery box or X-ray the mystery box.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Steve!”

Over the next few days, Sam expects Steve to mention the box or give him the present at last. His birthday isn’t for another three months, Christmas is in six. There isn’t really a reason for a gift. Steve had given him a beautiful gray cashmere scarf on their friendship anniversary. Sam hadn’t even marked the day and had felt guilty as shit, until Steve said, “Just being you is enough,” which had cracked Sam up because it was so cheesy.

Sam is a little annoyed with himself, because the longer Steve goes without mentioning the box, the higher grows Sam’s curiosity. Almost unbearable curiosity. But he won’t peek. He made a promise. Plus, Steve’s gift-giving face is so precious, Sam doesn’t want to ruin it. Even if it has been a week, two weeks, a fricking month.

“Sam!” Steve calls when he arrives home a little over a month and a half after bringing the mystery box into the house. “I’ve got something for you!”

Sam is sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, slicing strawberries for a fruit salad. “I’m in the kitchen,” he says.

Steve comes in with the mystery box under one arm and a much smaller box in his hand. “You’ve been very patient, Sam. Here you go. Um, open the small one first.”

Sam sets the knife on the cutting board and takes the two boxes. He unwraps the small package and pulls off the lid.

“Steve?”

“We can, uh, sew it on to your uniform, you know? Like, on the shoulder. That’s where mine is.”

It’s an Avengers A patch.

“Welcome to the team, if you want.”

“Steve, I would want, but I don’t have wings anymore. I’m not Falcon without them and Bucky—”

Steve points to the second box. “Open it.”

“Steve,” he says, hands shaking as he tears off the wrapping paper – little illustrated birds on a white background – and opens the box. And inside is a wing pack, more beautiful and chrome than his last pair. He doesn’t even need to open them to know they’re going to take his breath away. “Steve,” he says again.

“I want you to be an Avenger.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

“And now, Fury owes me a hundred bucks. He bet you wouldn’t be able to resist seeing what was in the box. It was his dumb test to make sure you could handle not having all the pieces of a puzzle when we go on missions.”

Sam laughs. “Fury really doesn’t trust anyone.”

“I told him you were one of the only people I trust. The person I trust the most, even.”

“Steve,” Sam says, touched beyond words.

“Fury’s a cynic. With good reason, I suppose. But if he knew you like I do, he'd see the world is full of really, really perfect people.”

Sam grins, has to look away from all Steve’s blue-eyed sincerity. “Thanks. For the—” he holds up the Avengers logo and points at the wing pack, “and the words. The really nice words.”

Steve grins. “I can’t wait to tell Fury how wrong he was.”

 

_Steve. Everything._

 

“It was amazing, right?”

Steve nods, keyed up. Sam doesn’t blame him. _Mad Max_ is one of those movies that you leave ready to fight or fuck. If Sam had to guess, he’d say Steve is feeling the latter.

“It was insane, even by my standards.”

“It’s somehow better on a rewatch.”

Steve shakes his head. “Impossible. It was already perfect. When Furiosa uses Max as a rifle stand. And Cheedo tricking everyone because they thought she was weak. And the war boy flipping the truck. And the music! God, I’m so pumped.”

Sam smiles. “I can tell. Wanna get some ice cream and yell about it some more.”

“You know me so well,” Steve says, throwing an arm around Sam’s shoulder. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Hugging Sam, grabbing Sam’s hand, snuggling into him while they’re watching something on TV. Sam isn’t complaining. Far from it. His heart is doing the Macarena, honestly. But he doesn’t know what to do with Steve, who is all enthusiasm and affection and kindness, especially since he decided to let Bucky come home when Bucky’s ready, giving Steve the time to just be in the moment. Steve in the moment is a giant puppy, who apparently really likes Sam. But is it like-like, or puppy like, or puppy love? Sam isn’t sure, wants to let Steve make all the moves on this one because Sam’s happy any way he can have Steve. Best friend. Partner. Boyfriend. Whatever. Steve just makes his life happier, better, infinitely more interesting.

“Two scoops of chocolate fudge brownie in a cup, please,” Steve orders at Ben & Jerry’s, then grins at Sam, before saying, “Hell, I’m feeling wild. Make it three.”

Sam laughs. “I’ll have two scoops of the same.”

The cashier tells them the total and before Sam can pull out his wallet, Steve has handed over a twenty and told the cashier she can put the change in the tip jar.

“I could’ve got that, Steve, you paid for the movie.”

Steve shrugs. “I asked you out. I should pay.”

“You asked me out?” Sam says, heart shimmying and clapping to the Macarena song like its 1993.

Steve makes a duh face and brings an overflowing spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

Sam smiles behind his own ambitiously full spoon.

“Can you walk and eat that landmass at the same time?” he asks. “We could walk home.”

“Okay, Sam.”

As they stroll, Steve goes through every single scene of _Mad Max_ and explains why it was brilliant. Sam can’t help the way he’s grinning at Steve, who keeps saying, “Amazing! Just amazing!” about everything.

They reach his apartment as Steve is saying, “And then he nods at her as she ascends and it’s honestly the most perfect thing. I thought I was gonna throw myself out of my chair.”

“You were actually vibrating the floor jiggling your knee,” Sam says.

“Sorry, it was just amazing. AMAZING!”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Sam says. He sits down on his porch steps and Steve drops down beside him. “Thanks for the ice cream,” Sam says, holding up his empty cup.

He turns his head to smile at Steve and Steve is much closer than he thought, so that there’s maybe half a foot between them.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says. He licks his lip, his eyes dropping to Sam’s mouth. And then he leans forward and Sam only has a second to get on the same page, but damn is he already there. And it’s as perfect a first kiss as you’d imagine. Soft, tentative, then more certain. A little cold and sticky from the ice cream, over much too soon.

“What was that for?” Sam asks, voice gone whispery and quiet.

Steve smiles. “I bet myself I’d kiss you today.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was very loosely inspired by that meme where Person A is all, I can't believe you guys are daring me to go kiss Person B and everyone else is all, No one is saying that while Person A goes to kiss Person B anyway. It's a great meme. 
> 
> This is like a very distant, twice removed cousin at this point, but that's where it started. Anyhow. Join me in Fluff City.


End file.
